


english

by mesoquatic



Category: Lizard Boy - Huertas
Genre: Fluff, Gay, M/M, Slow Burn, coffee shop AU, cursing, its gay ok, super long, writer!trevor, writers au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 02:32:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14486874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mesoquatic/pseuds/mesoquatic
Summary: Trevor thought his English major, only an associates mind you, would prepare him for everything in life.





	english

“And as much as it seemed like they had a happy ending, something would come to ruin their end as everything does.”

Staring at the screen for three hours straight was never a good thing. Whether it was gaming or a google document trying to figure out where to start the sequel that’s been overdue for three years, it wasn’t a good thing to stare at a computer too long. Even with the plot down in your head, word for word, there was still that barrier. What might that be?

Starting the damn thing.

Trevor shouldn’t have waited three years to even think about starting to write the sequel when his first one was an immediate hit on the bookshelves. He was lucky enough as it was to have been earning what he had gotten so far. He was one in a million, no _billion._ And he might as well blow it because this book was due a while back.

God, he’s such a dick to his fans. That, and none of them know what he even looked like. Image was important in the public business and all he had was the single cover of his single book. Hell, he doesn’t even know how he got where he was without it. There were too many fan theories across the web to even count. At this point, he’s basically one of those gamers who hasn’t done a face reveal.

But, as much as he thought that his fans deserved it, he also deserved his privacy. What he really owed his fans was this promised sequel that might not even be started until after he’s dead. Yes, that’s it. Just needed to start it and he’d be well into it by the time the sun broke the horizon maybe seven hours from now. Or maybe he should sleep and start fresh? That sounded much better.

And he did. He went straight to bed and left his laptop alone for the night. It didn’t stop him from laying there for a good hour wondering if these people really could wait another day. Of course, the book wasn’t coming out tomorrow, but they’ve already been waiting three years.

Trevor did eventually fall asleep but his laptop was there to taunt him again in the morning. Before he could get to that, he had to get some coffee in his system. Nothing screamed deprived artist in Seattle other than coffee at eight thirty in the morning. Except one tragedy that presented itself to him when he went downstairs to make it had to ruin his morning. His coffee machine was broken. _Great._

You see, if Trevor was just your typical main character, he would totally be fine with going out to buy coffee. He’d maybe flirt with a cute barista and be someone we all dreamed of being at one point. It was the infamous and cringe worthy Mary Sue dream.

But he had the skin of a lizard. Patches of it covered his face and his body. That’s all. He’s hid in this same house for five years, barely going out unless he had to, but then waiting until it was midnight before going to the local Walmart. That’s the time when the crazy folks come around and he wouldn’t be judged as much.

Of course, the weird stares and glares would still be there but that doesn’t mean he’s worse than the lady without pants on. At least he could hide his skin as much as possible. Makeup was not an option with the type of skin texture he had. Oily? No, it’s very scaly and a bit bumpy in some areas then normal in others. Got a CC cream for that? No? Exactly.

It was raining outside. Not your stereotypical rain that outsiders expect to see, but the true Seattle rain. Showers coming from the small clouds up above with the sun to be seen. The only pictures online of the rain are from the winter and early spring months. Once May comes around, the sun and the rain mix before the rain takes a slumber until September. You’ll only get hot if you sit in the sun for more than thirty minutes.

Trevor grabbed a mask to help hide his face before pulling his hood over his hair and pulling his sleeves down to cover more of his hands; his shoes, a pair of heavy duty industrial boots, covered what his pants didn’t. Nice and secure, like a blanket to remind him that he could be just back in the bed and staring at his screen contemplating his life like the night before. Great, here he was, full circle in his thinking. It all came back to the google document he has had open for too long. Great for him, more reasons why he needed to work on it.

At least, as he told himself before, he could go out in public without being recognized every single second of the day. It made his life pleasant and peaceful. He could stop and sniff the drenched flowers and smile before taking off again down the sidewalk. As much as Seattle was a big city, it was just behind Portland with how nature orientated it was.

God, he loved this place. He stopped right there and stared up into the sky, holding his hood to make sure it stayed over his hair. He smiled as he flinched with every rain drop against his face and glasses. It was a shower but better smelling than his crap shower.

Sometimes he wished he could go back hundreds of years into the past so he could see what nature looked like. The rolling fields and endless trees and forests. There would be quiet for hours on end, only a few noises from the animals or the rain to make his ears tingle. Storms would come in and out without terror and the earth wouldn’t be melting. Infinitely clear skies, too. He would find true happiness there.

And he would also find it in a decent cup of coffee. If anything, that was more favorable option at the moment. If he was in the past, he’d have to figure out how to actually craft good coffee from a cow and coffee beans. He really didn’t have the effort to do that. He didn’t really have the effort to do _anything_.

The second Trevor got inside of the Starbucks, he suddenly remembered that he had never really been to one before. If he had, he definitely didn’t remember what he ordered. But, he lived in Seattle, he _must_ have had a cup before without realizing. That stereotype was a thing, right?

“Sir?” The barista smiled at him with all his teeth out. In Trevor’s mind, someone needed to teach this man to back down a bit. First impressions might be everything but that doesn’t mean they were already making friendship bracelets and having ‘no homo’ sex.

Goddammit. Why did he always take it there?

“Sir.”

Trevor raised an eyebrow.

“What do you want to order?” The barista asked and leaned over the screen of the register. His hair gleaned blondish under the lights despite being brown.

Trevor only took a deep breath and looked up at the menu. There were so many options. His coffee machine only had three options and two he never touched. The other? The full pot button had been hit so many times that the label wasn’t even there anymore. A second went by and then another. And another, and another, and another, and then-

“Is this your first time here?” The barista chuckled as he looked over the screen. “Let me guess, you’re a tourist. East coast maybe? Oh! Or maybe out of the country? Canada? No, uh-”

“Straight coffee.”

“I can’t quite place that accent. It’s got that Seattle flair but then there’s something else-”

“Straight coffee.”

“Huh?”

“I just want a straight coffee.”

“Sir, you have to choose something on the menu.”

“Well, you have coffee, don’t you? I want just a straight coffee.”

The barista gulped. “Black? Okay,” he pressed the screen a few times. “What size?”

“Large.”

“Our sizes don’t work like-”

“Extra large.”

“Sir-”

“A whole pot.” Trevor looked back at the barista only to see him press a few things into the screen.

“Venti it is.” He sighed. “Decaf?”

“No.”

“So Pike Place blend or Dark blend?”

“Dark.”

“Okay.” He pressed a few more buttons before looking back up to Trevor. “That’ll be $2.87.”

Trevor quickly took out his wallet and paid before starting to wander off. He sighed, biting his lip as he looked around. The place was crowded-

“Sir-” Trevor whipped around to glare at the barista. He had a cup and sharpie in hand. “What’s your name?” He raised the cup slightly.

“Trevor.”

The barista’s eyes lit up at he wrote it. “Like Trevor De Guzman? God, I love his book! It’s amazing!”

This is why Trevor didn’t go out often. What’s the significance? He was, indeed, Trevor De Guzman. This is why he never went outside. This is also why he never put a face to his name. God, he should have given himself a pen name. Even so, it would have the same level of fame to it. Why didn’t his English major prepare him for this?

“Sir?”

Goddammit.

Trevor slowly looked back up at the barista. Despite trying to look as calm as possible, he was completely agitated. “Yes?” The smile wasn’t helping at all.

“It’ll be done in a minute or two.” The barista went to work.

If Trevor’s machine was working, it would have been done an hour ago. But, no, it just had to die without an glory! No mess! No sputter! Nothing! Nada! It didn’t even pull out a sword to try to murder Trevor! Just straight out not turning on. No one would remember it that way. It would just be replaced by a newer, better model.

Just like war tactics. God, there’s got to be a better comparison there. Trevor needed to work on that. He also needed to work on the book. It all comes full circle. Everything he thought about lead him right back to square one.

While he waited, he might as well think about what he should go with. Was it worth it to start there? Or would it be better to have a time skip? He had no idea at this point what the plot was going to even be about. Damn past him for promising a sequel of a self contained story. Curse past him for a sequel inducing ending. God, what kind of evil was even going to plague a group of teenagers? They’ve already defeated demons! Maybe more demons? No, that would be too similar.

He could also make it like a magic based episode from a kid’s show. One of his characters had a spell book. Something could go wrong. But, again, that book was the source of the villain of the first book. Goddammit. It was already cliche enough for it to happen that way but a second time? No.

Then what plot would come from it? What’s so bad that it comes after learning about some teenagers who have a single spell book? Worse demons? He’s already thought about that. Zombies? It’d change the tone so drastically from the first book. Murder mystery? Murdering monster mystery? Sounds like his characters.

What kind of monster would it be? He could take the Until Dawn path and deal with windigos. He liked playing that game even if he got everyone killed his first playthrough. Maybe he’s not qualified to save the lives of fictional characters. If so, he could pull a Game of Thrones and murder them all. That wouldn’t be a good sequel.

One death, though? Now we’re talking. If the plot demanded it, it would be perfect. Would the readers like to read that? He wasn’t so sure. He hasn’t touched the fandom, not even with a ten foot pole. He had no idea what it was like.

Maybe seeing what it was like would give him some opinions? That or he would never want to touch his fans with a twenty foot pole ever again. Maybe it would raise to even a hundred foot pole and he still wouldn’t touch them. God, he could have become the new Twilight and he would have no idea because he was such a hermit.

 

Trevor’s just surprised that he actually had the courage to submit the book to a publisher in the first place. To blow up like that? He would have never imagined that in his dreams. Maybe all of it was a bad idea? Even if it was, it would be a worse idea to come out and reveal who he was.

“Sir?”

He sighed and looked at the barista.

“Your coffee has been done for a minute now. It’s right there.” The barista motioned to the cup and Trevor quickly took it. His first thoughts is that there would be nothing left by the time he got back to his house.

“Thanks,” he started and looked at the name tag of the barista, “Gary.”

“It’s Cary!” He called back as Trevor left the building. “Not Gary!”

Three hours later, Trevor wasn’t sure if he was more disappointed in his lack of caffeine or how the name of the barista had implanted itself into his head. That and what he had of the story introduced a character that looked completely like the barista. If anything, he needed to take a break and get fresh air… after two pages of writing. He hadn’t even hit one thousand words and he needed eighty thousand!

At this point he wanted to curse every television show or movie that made writing look easy. Want to write a novel? Just sit down at a computer for a whole day and then send it off to a publisher as a submission? Do they even know what writing a novel is like? God, he wishes he had a different job. Hell, being a corpse was easier. He’d get to stay in bed all day for free! No one would bother him unless they wanted to rob him.

He needed more coffee. He needed more coffee and more blankets and a better writing system. Kudos to those who can do outlines unlike him. Winging it is just what he does on a daily basis. Coffee made him feel more confident at least. Caffeine was truly a drug-

If he got more coffee, he’d see Cary. Maybe he could take his laptop and write at the shop? There’s also then the possibility that someone would see him writing and probably know the characters. What if Cary sees? He sounded like a die hard fan. Or maybe no one would think too much of it?

Trevor can’t believe that he’s putting his anonymous status on the line for a, probably straight, cute barista boy. Wait, he thought he was cute. Is that why the character is the love interest? He shouldn’t even stay out too long because of what he looked like. Or if Cary found out who he was then he would only want to be friends with Trevor because he was somewhat known for his book.

This was too much. He had stopped to take a deep breath, staring at his door with wide eyes. His shoes were on and his backpack was packed. It was the perfect time to back out and go back to hiding forever. He wouldn’t have a life. He would only know several pots of coffee and a computer screen. It’s been his system for years.

When was the last time he even called his mom? He knew what was going on in her life but did she know about him? She posted about everything she did in a day on Facebook but he never posted. God, he could visit her today.

That’s it. He’s going to get coffee and a cup of tea, hopefully, and ride the bus towards her house. She’d love to hear from him. At least she knows about him and his writing career and wasn’t a complete stranger named Cary who was also very cute. God, that sounded like a callout post, but the plan worked. His mom could help him with ideas, too. He hasn’t even touched the idea of looking at the fandom since he first thought about it.

It was still raining, as usual. He had dressed a bit warmer this time, having learned from his mistakes earlier in the day. It was only barely warmer than three hours before, but he also knew that it would be barely warmer than that today at all. There was no way he would survive the walk all the way to his mother’s house after getting off the bus. The tea would be cold by the time he arrived. Maybe he could order an Uber to take him from the Starbucks all the way to his mother’s place.

“Hello, welcome to Starbucks. What would you like to order?”

It was the same exact barista; almost blonde, taller, and Cary not Gary. Would it be cliche if he named the character in his book Gary or too stalkerish? It would have been a lot worse if he named him Cary.

Then Cary _chuckled_.

“It’s you! The same guy from earlier!” He chuckled more. “Same order?”

“Uh,” Trevor paused, “Do you have any teas?”

“We have iced tea. Do you want that instead of your venti dark roast coffee?”

“No, I, uh, want two drinks. One coffee and one iced tea.”

“Iced tea flavor?”

“Strawberry…?” Trevor asked slowly, still confused over the whole menu. Why the hell did they have so many flavors?

“Lemonade or just green tea?”

“Why does anyone need tea and lemonade in one drink?” He muttered making Cary laugh. God, that laugh was making Trevor’s cheeks go pink. He had his head well over his heels by now.

“You’d be surprised.” Cary chuckled some more as he punched the order into the menu. “I’m guessing that you only want the green tea one?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright.” He smiled. Trevor’s heart was on fire by now. Cary read out the total cost and let Trevor start paying. “I didn’t see you as a tea person seeing as you really wanted coffee this morning.”

“It’s for my mom.” Trevor explained softly.

He handed the receipt he signed back. For the second time today he hoped that Cary could not read his handwriting. Luckily, he didn’t and Trevor was able to go to waiting without a hitch. Or he could have noticed but not said anything. Hell to the idea, he seemed way too excited to even see that Trevor’s first name was the same.

Stepping away from the register, he stuffed his own receipt into his wallet and sighed. He had brought his backpack after all, laptop and all. If he sat down and started to write, the tea would definitely be cold by the time he got to her place. Maybe they could talk as he wrote, letting him bounce ideas off of her. She always liked the idea that he became an author. She was the first person he ever shared his writing to.

He waited, humming softly along to the radio. Despite spending most of his time inside, today being the most he’s probably spent outside of his house since college, he still listened to the radio. He never got into all of the current rap stuff but he liked a good, slow pop song. Other than that, he kept to the eighties with the bold and dramatic rock. God, was that gay? That was totally gay.

God, maybe he’d start getting addicted to iced frappuccinos and fashion and become a stereotype. He may joke sometimes that he only craved death, but that would be the moment that he would no longer joke about it but would actually crave it. Maybe it was the writer in him? Stereotypes were too predictable for his own taste.

“Trevor?”

 

He looked up and smiled softly, taking the coffee into his hands. He leaned against the counter as he waited on the last drink. Cary glanced back at him as he started.

“Are you watching me?” He chuckled, making Trevor’s heart skip a beat. God, that laugh.

“Maybe.” Shit, shit, shit, shit. That was a bad thing to say.

Except, Cary laughed more.

“You seem more observant when you’re awake? I-Is it the coffee?” He glanced back at Trevor again. The smile he had on was growing slowly.

“Maybe.” Trevor repeated before taking a sip. It was too hot for his liking, slightly burning his tongue. He didn’t care, seeing Cary’s smile only made him smile as well.

“Is that your favorite word or something?”

“No, that title goes to defenestration.” Trevor responded swiftly, only shaking slightly. He could hear with little, gay heart beating in his ears and his cheeks burned. It wasn’t as hot as his coffee was, though.

“Defenestration?”

“Yep.” He nodded and gulped.

“I’m not sure what that means.” Cary smiled back at Trevor, his hand pressed against the button he needed. “Are you an English major or something?”

Trevor grinned and looked down at his coffee. “Sort of.”

“Sort of?” Cary asked as Trevor looked back up at him.

The cup started to overfill, alerting Cary immediately. He stopped pressing the button and looked down at the mess with a frown. With a quick glance back at Trevor and a reality check, he rushed to start cleaning it up. Trevor watched silently, his whole face red by this point. When Cary finished, he looked back up at the cup before he looked at Trevor.

“Is it okay if I made you another one? I-It’s kind of ruined, sorry.”

Trevor nodded simply. “I’m not pressed on time.”

Cary nodded and immediately went to work. This time, much to Trevor’s dismay, Cary didn’t look at him or talk as he worked. Instead, it was completely silent as if it was just this morning and Cary was making him his first ever Starbucks coffee. God, now that Trevor looks back on it, he’s romanticized it well too much. He needed to tone it down. For all he knew, Cary was never flirting with him.

He needed to stop assuming that every cute boy he saw and thought flirted with him was gay. It seemed rude in the long run to assume. Eventually, it would get him in trouble or make him more disappointed once he learned that the guy was straight. He shouldn’t think that it’s flirting unless he knows the other is gay. But, at the same time, it’s hard. People don’t just wear a t-shirt with their sexuality on it. Life would be either much simpler or just another World War would occur. Trevor wasn’t sure.

Cary slid a drink to him, holding it for a second longer than he seemed to have done before. Did Trevor really have any information to compare that to? Two drinks? Maybe he shouldn’t assume. Again with the assuming. He needed to stop.

Trevor thanked him quietly and grabbed the drink before walking out. He couldn’t even bring himself to look bad. His face was going red once again, looking over the whole experience as embarrassing. The thing is, Cary could be gone tomorrow and Trevor would never know his schedule, or his middle name, or how his eyes looked under low lighting.

Trevor didn’t stop the whole way to his mother’s home. Her neighborhood was nice enough for what she could afford. Trevor helped, of course. After he could sustain living in his place, some of his money went to his mother to make sure she could live happily. She was an immigrant, pregnant with him when she moved to the States. Without him, she probably wouldn’t be able to make enough money to stay. He was determined to make it so it didn’t have to happen.

So, it wasn’t the best. She always turned down his offers to let him move into his place or for him to buy her a better place. She was content where she was and that was good to her. That and she had her garden and the cats. He’s known for years that his mother was the crazy cat lady everyone warned little girls not to become. She had a real love for all cats. None of them were really her cats but strays that knew that she would feed them. She even had names for all of them, all named after different Catholic prophets. It was hilarious, really.

His mother, in the end, was the epitome of the crazy woman; single, divorced, independent, strong minded, raised her own kid by herself, went to church, and fed all of the cats in the neighborhood. Trevor could never imagine growing up in anything better for who he was in the end. It helped for writing the abnormal in the end. It was either his mother who helped that or the fact that he looked like a lizard. Or, like it probably was, it was a combination of both.

Trevor knocked on the front door of a green house on the corner and smiled. Nothing had changed since his last visit; his mother’s house still stood out like a sore thumb. She had it painted a bright green years ago, when he was still in elementary school, and it had faded dark from moss over the years. Why, you might ask. Why bright green? To make Trevor to feel better about his own skin being green.

He knocked once more only to have it opened immediately after. His mother, shorter than him and wearing an apron, looked up and grinned.

“Trevor!” She pulled him into a hug. While Trevor’s coffee was completely empty, he held the full tea cup tight to make sure it didn’t get ruined. When she pulled away, he handed it over. “What is this?”

“Tea. I got it on the way here.” He explained as she let him inside. “I’ll warn you that it’s a bit cold.”

“Iced?”

“No, I just didn’t plan ahead and got it from the coffee place by my house and not the one near here.” He smiled and closed the door. Watching her rush to the kitchen, he set down his backpack next to the couch and dropped his own empty cup into the trash can.

“I can warm it up, yes?”

“I’m not sure if that cup is microwavable.” He noted and pulled out his laptop before heading to the table. He set it down and joined her in the kitchen.

She was in the process of finding a mug that would fit the tea that she could microwave. There was a whole collection of mugs in the cabinets, just slightly out of her reach. Trevor took over and chuckled as he searched for her. Eventually, she dragged over a stool so she could also look. Once they found one, he spoke up again.

“I don’t think it’ll taste good if it’s been microwaved.”

“It’ll be better than cold tea! It’s too bitter.”

Trevor chuckled and watched as his mother poured the tea into her mug and stuck it into the microwave. She debated for a few seconds how long she should cook it before punching in for two minutes.

“Seems like a long time.” He noted.

“I like to burn my tongue every once in awhile to remind myself that I’m still alive.” She chuckled and watched as the mug spun around and around again. “Or maybe I will open the microwave one day and bam! The radiation will burn me alive like a bomb!” She chuckled more. Trevor joined her lightly.

“I don’t think that’ll happen, ma.”

“You never know because the news has never gotten out about it!”

“I’m pretty sure we’d all know if someone got blown up by their microwave radiation. It’s not even the same type of radiation.”

“Are you a scientist?”

“No-”

“Then you can’t say anything!”

Trevor grinned as he laughed and rubbed his face with his hand. She rolled her hips around as she waited, as if she was a runner stretching for a race in the olympics. She looked determined only to get half-assed tea.

“I’m ready for death now. My joints are fresh!”

Trevor couldn’t help but burst into laughter again as he slowly took off his hood. He had forgotten to when he came in, very disrespectful of him. His mask was still well forgotten but still muffling his voice. She grinned up at him.

“See! It worked! You’re opening up!”

 

Trevor kept laughing as the microwave beeped. She opened it, ignoring how hot the mug was as she took it out.

“Be careful with your fingers.”

“Nonsense! They were burnt off years ago!” She put the mug down on the counter and started to add a small sugar packet to it as Trevor took off his face mask. She glanced over. “There’s my beautiful and handsome boy!”

“If all of that was for me to take that stuff off, I congratulate you. You should go into acting.”

“Maybe when I’m older. Then, they’ll be more desperate for me because I’ll be well into retirement.”

“How so?”

She struck a small pose and looked at him. “All of my competition will be _retired_ , dear.”

Trevor laughed some more before moving to make himself a cup of coffee. Despite despising coffee, his mother insisted about keeping the coffee maker and the coffee beans for when Trevor came around. And, honestly? It felt so weird to be making his own coffee and it’s only been two cups of Starbucks. Or was it something else other than the coffee?

It was probably the absent effort of having not to make it and not the cute boy. God, today has just been one full circle thought after another. He must have got it from somewhere. Does he have any ideas? Probably foreshadowing. Is he foreshadowing his own life right now? A memoir? Maybe.

But, if he was foreshadowing his own life, does that mean he-

“Trevor? You can’t put straight beans into the machine. You have to grind them first.”

Shit. He lost focus.

With a deep breath, he started to clean the inside of the machine for the coffee beans. He shouldn’t be thinking this deep while operating machinery. It was like a drug and it might make him delusional. What drug? Nothing. Or it is something and he doesn’t know what it is.

Stop. Trevor was doing it again.

Sometimes, telling yourself not to think was worse than thinking in the first place. Trevor, and most people, knew this to be a fact. Thinking can distract people easily but telling yourself not to think is thinking. It’s hard to not think. The second you recognize that it’s happening, you are thinking about it. It-

He finally got the beans ground up and put into the machine. He sighed and pulled out a mug before starting it. He slowly took his gloves off, too.

“Is something on your mind?” His mother asked as she slid closer. Her mug was closer to her lips and fogged up her glasses as she looked up at him. “Hm? Or do you not want to talk to your own mother? Oh? Is it writing? You brought your laptop.”

“Yeah.” Trevor sighed. “I-I’m finally trying to start the sequel.”

“You said you started that months ago. Did you lie to me? I raised you better than that!”

Trevor shushed her and stared at the coffee maker. “I-I had tried but it never stuck around. I scraped it for a blank slate.” He explained simply. “But I have no ideas and need to bounce something off of someone.”

“If you have no ball to bounce, how will the wall bounce it back?”

“God, is that another one of those proverbs?” He chuckled out one laugh and looked back at her.

“No, I made up the saying myself. One of the nice, older ladies at church thinks I’m a prophet. I thought I should practice my sayings.” She explained without a single laugh. Trevor could not help but smile.

“I think I’ve known for years and your friend is-”

“She isn’t my friend.”

He raised an eyebrow as he went to the fridge for creamer. “Well, why not? She obviously gets along with you.”

“Does a celebrity go out to lunch with every single one of their fans?”

Trevor snorted, knowing all too well that that was most likely just another saying. His smile kept.

“You might as well be a prophet.”

“And you were saying that you’ve known for how long…?”

“Years?” He glanced back at his mother and put the creamer back after pouring some into his coffee. “Maybe since I came out of the all so holy womb of yours?”

Her laughter erupted and filled the space of not only the room, but the whole house. It settled quickly but still brought warmth to Trevor’s stomach. His smile was still on his face and, as the old saying was, would probably be stuck there for quite some time. His mother caught onto this and grinned with him. She put down her mug to touch two fingers to the corners of his mouth.

“See? You don’t smile this big hidden in your room all day.” She said. “It’s the same with inspiration. You won’t get any and you’ll hit a wall if you only try to write in your house. You won’t evolve into the best writer inside of you. Be that last evolution of those digital animals!”

Trevor snorted and looked down at her with his eyebrow raised. “Pokemon?” 

“Yes! Yes! You are your pokefarm when you were small. You’d hide under your blankets to play at night! You thought I wouldn’t know!”

“And you did?”

“Yes! Sometimes I let you get away with it because then you would face the consequences.”

“Like what?”

“Not having it charged when you wanted to play in the morning.” She explained and crossed her arms. “But, in the end, you need to experience more things to be able to write better. You don’t stop learning when you finish college, you keep growing.”

Trevor nodded and slowly brought his mug over to the table. He put it down, sat down, and opened up his computer. After logging in, he brought up his blank document, having immediately deleted what he had. He bit his lip.

“I can’t exactly experience summoning a demon.”

“What mythology is it based around?” She came over after downing the last of her tea. Leaning against the back of his chair, she rested her chin on his head and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “Pagan, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You could read more about Pagan ideals.”

“I’ve already done that for the first book.” He mumbled.

“Well, your second book is meant to expand on the story of the first book, correct?”

“Yeah.”

“Then,” she hummed, “Maybe have the demon come back and they did the wrong ritual? Or maybe the demon has the power to come back and they have to perform a ritual that makes it final?”

He bit his lip. “My only problem with that is that I have the same villain. I-”

“Revamp him. He could have only gone easy on the kids in the first book because he thought it would be an easy battle. This time, he could come full on blazing glory.”

Trevor slowly nodded. “Right.”

“And you also have romance to address right? Chloe and Sam have something going and I won’t let you say that kiss wasn’t platonic.”

“Mom-”

“And to help with that,” she continued despite Trevor’s whining, “Maybe you should get a boyfriend?”

He groaned and looked at her in the reflection of the screen. “I came for help writing, not for you to pin me for not dating anyone.”

“We both know you’re not dating anyone because I’m the only one that you let see you for what you look like.”

He immediately frowned, moving his eyes from looking at his mother’s reflection to his own. He bit his lip. She knew that he hid away as much as he could. She could call him out on it any time of the day and year. But, despite all of her claims that he was the most handsome son in the world, his own opinions still created the doubt in his mind that he didn’t deserve love.

“You,” he knew where she was going immediately when she cupped his face, “Are the most handsome son in the world and any boy would be lucky enough to have you. If they don’t like how you look, then they’re assholes who only care about appearance. If they don’t care about personality, then they have a bad one. If they have a bad personality, they are a pig and don’t deserve anyone in their life.”

Trevor kept his bottom lip between his teeth before letting go and taking in a deep breath. He closed his eyes, muttering out a small prayer, which most likely made his mother proud that he remembered anything from the last time he went to church (hint, it was years ago), and then opened his eyes once more. He stared at the page for a second before typing out one, single word and then a period.

‘Love.’

“That’s a start.” His mother whispered. “Make them think it’s one thing only for it to morph into what they know in love. It’s fresh and it’s new.”

Then, with a swift move by him to sit up, he started to type.

Now, you may be thinking that it was a simple solution to a complex problem. His mother, in the end, was Trevor’s muse. No need to go on, it’s over now. No need for love or Cary to be in the equation anymore. Trevor could just go to the local Walmart tonight and buy another coffee machine and have the first draft of his novel done by the end of the month.

Except, that was completely false. Three days in, with the addition of the new coffee machine, only left him three thousand words in and without a clue in the world about how he was going to introduce the plot. Three thousand was too long for a final draft but well enough for a first draft. He could handle this.

But not his coffee. It’s never been the same. It’s like he was drinking cheap, half-assed coffee all his life and Starbucks was superior. Capitalism, isn’t it? Even when he bought the Starbucks bags of coffee at the store, it wasn’t the same. It’s like they prepared it differently in store. Even with going back one morning, and to a completely different barista who reminded Trevor that he lost his chance with Cary, it wasn’t the same.

One morning, though, it hit him. He had woken up at his desk with his face down against the keys. On his screen was the letter ‘f’ over and over for over fifty pages before it got back to the actual content of the book. The more he read back, the more he started to realize that he was bored with the content, that means the readers would definitely be bored too, and fell asleep because of that instead of just being tired.

God, how did anyone put up with reading his writing? Why him out of all the aspiring authors out there whose books will never been seen by the public eyes? Rowling deserved it, King deserved it, and most certainly Gaiman. He didn’t, in the end. He couldn’t stand there next to all of those people and be expected to be able to talk with them about the craft when he barely knew a thing, and he was so young, too.

And, of course, everyone else would disagree. It is the burden caused by the constant plague of anxiety and depression day in and day out. Self doubt was all too common and self hatred slightly less. Maybe that was the block in the end? Trevor is so scared about failing and disappointing everyone that he’s too scared to even try.

Wow, thanks English degree for preparing him for writer’s block so bad it sends him into Pandora’s Box. No one ever told him it was going to be this way, or this gay.

In the end, just as he was reminded of constantly, writing stems from experience; don’t put your characters into a coffee shop if you can’t describe the smell of a freshly brewed latte. Did Trevor even know what a latte taste like? No, he didn’t. He knew the straight, black coffee he has been drinking for years on end.

Maybe he should try a latte. Did he know how to make a latte at home, though? Absolutely not.

As Trevor left his house, he adjusted his mask to cover more of his face. He didn’t like the feeling in the air that much. Maybe it was the fear that, deep down, the latte would never taste right; either because it was not what he was used to or that it was not made correctly. He couldn’t argue if it was made correctly or not in the end seeing as he, again, didn’t know how to make one. It was a dilemma that seemed to have an answer on the tip of his tongue.

The rain was pouring as ever, and giving no end in sight to a sunny day. It’s been the same day after day. Of course, the wind was not helping either. Being in the Puget Sound area didn’t help the wind situation. Everyone knew that it would keep up for longer until mid-April hit and then not even a sprinkle would be found until October rolled around.

Want to know a fun fact about the Puget Sound area? They didn’t have four seasons, oh no, they had two. For about eight months, they had straight depression. The other four? They lived on the surface of the sun. And, sadly enough, that would be a day in the winter for someone from somewhere in the desert.

Maybe the founder of Starbucks created a coffee empire because he just wanted to give decent cups of coffee out during the cold months, and an iced coffee during the summer? Caffeine was a drug after all. With how Seattle was the second hipster capital, Portland being the first as seeing as Los Angeles doesn’t count until YouTube comes along, it made sense why it went big. Was that genius in the end or just plain capitalism?

Something, not just the drinks, must have brought people in. Free Wifi? It was definitely the free Wifi with a side of cheaper drinks. But, in the end, a four dollar cup of coffee every morning gets expensive quick and not everyone had money to spare like Trevor did. He was part of the capitalistic agenda in the end. No wonder why he was so addicted in the end.

Trevor walked in and wiped his shoes on the mat before looking up at the menu. He had been in just long enough to understand that sometimes seasonal drinks came in. Nothing new this time, though, but an absence of a barista. He approached cautiously and bit his lip before someone rushed out of the back.

“I-I’m sorry. I hope you weren’t waiting long.”

Trevor watched him before smiling under his mask. After all this time, it was finally Cary in front of him. The other looked up and they made slight eye contact.

“Hey, it’s Mister Straight Coffee Dude!” Cary chuckled, making Trevor grin. “The usual?”

Trevor shook his head, suddenly finding his shoulders a bit stiff.

“I was hoping to get a latte.”

Cary looked up and smirked. “You’ve got to be joking.”

It wasn’t now until Trevor realized there was a stain of coffee on his apron that was still dripping. Cary seemed to notice and looked down.

“Yeah, I, uh, dropped a coffee by accident. I was trying to clean it up in the back.” He explained simply. Trevor nodded.

“It’s fine.”

“So, a latte?” Cary asked. “What kind?”

“Kind?”

“Yeah. We have different types of lattes.”

Trevor sighed. “Of course you do.” He grumbled as he looked up at the menu. Cary had chuckled at his comment. 

“I can help you. Do you like it straight coffee?”

“Yes.”

“Iced?”

“No. Absolutely not.” He grimaced. “I hate iced coffee.”

Cary kept laughing as he put in the order. “Well, then I got what you want.”

“Really?”

He nodded and eventually Trevor joined in before they both stopped and looked away. Cary read out the total of the order. Trevor paid and they both stepped away. Nothing was said, maybe as if it was Macbeth in a theater but with coffee and flirting. Could it be called flirting? Was Macbeth about romance at all?

The cup was passed to him on the counter. That was quick. He looked down before back up at Cary. They both lingered there.

“Why do you hide your face?” Cary asked carefully.

“I, uh,” Trevor bit his lip and picked at the end of his sleeves with his gloves. “Allergies.”

“Really?” Trevor nodded.

“Pollen. It’s really bad.” It’s not the first time he has had to use that excuse.

“That must suck. I bet you stick around in your place a lot to avoid it.”

Trevor nodded, lucky enough that he could cover the patches that he had. “A-And skin stuff.”

“Cancer?”

“No, no,” he looked down at his coffee. “Like, uh, birthmarks…?”

Something hit him there, a realization of all things. He was oversharing. He was definitely oversharing to a guy that he liked so obviously that it hurt, and the fact that Cary was probably straight was just the band-aid being ripped off at the end. He-

“Do you want to go out or something?” It was small and quiet, as if Cary was afraid to ask. When Trevor didn’t say anything, he obviously panicked. “L-Look, it’s fine if you don’t want to. I-It’s not to say I thought you were gay when I saw you but it doesn’t even have to be romantic, yeah? I-I just want to get to know you better and you probably don’t anymore. I should stop talking. Uh-” he stepped away but Trevor stayed. He slowly looked up, what was seen of his face was red.

“I-I’d love to.”

It was Cary’s turn for his face to grow redder. “W-Well, only if you want…”

“I do.” Trevor nodded slightly.

“O-Okay. Uh-” he rushed over with a pen. He grabbed Trevor’s cup and started to write something on it. He passed it back. “That’s my phone number. W-We can plan something, yeah?”

Trevor nodded. “Absolutely.”

They both stood there for a short while longer, staring, before breaking away and going on their own separate ways. Trevor stayed, though, and pulled out his computer at the most secluded table possible; not many sightlines were able to see what his screen read. He was taking no chances.

One dilemma did arise after a few minutes, though. He went to drink his latte only to find it up against his mask. He bit his lip, putting it down as his eyes darted around to make sure no one had seen or was seeing before he lifted his mask just slightly enough to get a sip of the drink.

It definitely was not as good as coffee was, that's for sure. If he was still here and it was still worth going for, he would definitely get a coffee when he finished the latte he had ordered. But it was something he could live with for a short while. If the apocalypse came and he only had access to lattes, he wouldn't complain but would noticeably miss his straight coffee after a long time. Did he analyze the situation too much? Maybe, no probably, no it was a definite yes.

Basically, he wasn't going to die because of one little change in his life for a day. Hell, he wouldn't be going on a date soon, hopefully, if he had not come to a Starbucks. Hell, one wrong move and he could not have a cute boy’s number. Now the character based off of Cary in the novel makes it creepy. Was it creepy to write people into books? Was it creepy to write crushes into love interests? That's the real question he should be thinking about, but also one he should be able to answer. Yes, it's creepy.

Eventually, his cup went dry and so did his hope for any progress. What he had gotten done was fairly decent for about fifteen minutes, about two hundred words, but only to the hobby writer. To the professional, like he was supposed to act, it was something he should be able to pump out within five minutes. If writers had quirks then constant writers block, with all of its disproven logic, would be his. His fans definitely knew about it.

Trevor packed up his stuff and decided against the second cup. Caffeine seemed a bit too unappealing the longer the latte sat. Something was not right about it. Whatever they added to make his coffee a latte was horrible and he regretted his decision in the long run even after liking the taste. Getting a date, or even the phone number, made the trip way better than it would have without it.

It wasn't even until he was half way home that he realized that he was sans a cup with a certain phone number on it. He stopped, patting his pockets before searching his backpack. Nothing traced to a cup, making it felt as if his heart died. He needed to go back and get it in a better spot. Or there was the idea that maybe Cary would think he was a jerk for throwing the cup away even if Trevor swore on his life that it was an accident.

Trevor went inside of the shop quietly, closing the door behind him and wiping his shoes as calmly as he could. His palms were sweaty as he walked up to the counter. No one, just like before, was looking over the work space. He leaned over, trying to look into the back room as much as he could before pulling away as an employee came out. It wasn’t Cary.

“Welcome! Can I take you order?”

“Uh-” he froze and took in a deep breath. “Is Cary here?”

“He just got off. You can probably catch him heading out soon. Did you want anything else?”

Trevor shook his head and pulled away to go out the door and wait. He didn’t have an umbrella and the overhang didn’t help much, but it was something. The pitter patter hitting the ground made his ears hurt, repeating over and over without stopping. Like it, the rain didn’t give up. Puddles covered the ground, stepped in without a care in the world by people who went on their way to destinations unheard to Trevor.

The door opened behind him but only two teenagers came out holding whatever was the newest trend of coffee; from secret menu to blonde. He could have missed Cary afterall. Another lost chance would mean that it wasn’t meant to be, right? The saying was that, if you let someone go, they’ll come back if they’re meant to be. But, does that count for people who miss the second chance? Does it reset? Does fate take bribes?

“Excuse me.”

Trevor glanced back and moved out of the way without really looking. He moved and watched the person walk down the road without much thought. She went off on her way with her coffee just like everyone else. It seemed that only his world had stopped moving for just these few minutes. If only he-

“Trevor?”

He looked back as the door closed to see Cary. He looked oddly different without his apron on and instead a jacket. Trevor gulped.

“Hey?”

“I thought you left?” Cary asked softly. “I watched you leave. When did you come back?”

“Like, a few minutes ago…?”

“Why?”

Trevor gulped and kicked the puddle he was standing in. “I may have forgotten about the phone number and thrown away the cup.” He bit his lip. “Sorry.”

“Why are you so worried?” Cary chuckled and pulled out his phone. “It's an honest mistake.”

Trevor's face grew redder as the other typed something out before handing Trevor his phone.

“Put in your phone number and I’ll send you a text, yeah?”

Trevor nodded softly and took the phone. He entered in his phone number before handing it back to Cary. He smiled under his mask.

“There. See? No need to worry.” Cary chuckled more. Trevor nodded softly. “No words?”

“I-uh-”

Cary chuckled even more causing Trevor's heart to beat in his ears. He could also feel his cheeks heat up. Almost as if bells were ringing a soft tone.

“It's fine, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Trevor agreed. “No hard feelings?”

“Absolutely not.” Cary checked the time on his phone and quickly frowned. “I have to get going for class.”

“Did I keep you?” Trevor bit his lip and glanced down the road. “Sorry.”

“No, it's fine.” Cary poked Trevor's nose, leaving the other wide eyed. “I’ll text you when I get to campus. See you!”

Cary took off, leaving Trevor alone on the sidewalk. After the initial haze of confusion went away, his face lit up bright red and he could hear his heart in his ears loud and clear. God, if he was this bad after just a poke, who knows how he would be during sex? A mess? He has no idea but that is as close as he could get.

He eventually got home as if he was a teenage girl sneaking into the house too late. Except, no lights or anyone were waiting for his arrival. Everything was as if nothing happened while he was gone. Upstairs, he unpacked his things and laid down.

Then he grabbed his pillow and screamed into it, kicking his legs back and forth against the bed and ruining the blankets he had yet to make; he promised himself he would make it but his habit of procrastination took over and suddenly it was weeks later. He felt as if he would pull his diary out and gush about how cute and handsome Cary was. Who was he? Ginger Foutley?

Did writing novels count as a diary? Not at all. It’s not real, for the most part, and it's based around characters he creates. It's a story, fictional for the most part. There may or may not be struggles in his own life sprinkled about in the words. But that wasn't all too rare, right?

If his stories were somewhat a diary, he would be nice and make the self insert obvious at least. He didn't have one, or at least he hoped he didn't. What about the Cary character? Everything came back to that, didn't it?

Trevor pulled out his phone and looked at the screen. Nothing. There was no new text or notification from anything. Surely enough Cary would be on campus by now. Or did he forget? Or did he only pretend that everything was okay and he really hated Trevor for his honest mistake? Is Cary that kind of person?

He put the phone down and rolled over to stare at his ceiling, sighed, then got up. His bed was left a mess as he went to his desk. Lifting the screen up, he bit his lip and logged in. He rolled his shoulders back as he stared at the screen. He typed one word and then whatever muse he had was gone. He couldn't even start a damn sentence.

He got up and opened his blinds, coughing at the dust that flew around. New experiences, yeah? If it was dark with no outside lighting, he'd only get depressing characters and plot points out of it. It wouldn't be good. Even if he couldn't open the window without risking his whole room being flooded, this would do.

Trevor sat back down and made sure his posture wasn't as bad before putting his fingers back on the keyboard. He took in a deep breath and wiped at his forehead before typing out another word.

“Out of all things,” he started before pausing. He deleted it before starting again. “Connor didn't expect Olive to be so dressed up for homecoming after all. She was never one to be found in something that resembled a dress except when it felt necessary. This must have been one of those moments.”

Sadly enough, Trevor sat back and stared. He never went to homecoming or prom. His mother always tried to get him to go but it was never worth anything without a date or friends. He wasn't even sure who he knew that he could ask about what a current high school dance would look like.

He'd have to bullshit it and base it off the movies. Not a new thing. But first, he needed to even get to the dance. Right, right, Connor with Olive, Sean was the third wheel so he could silently watch his own crush dance with their date. Willow was the beard. God, he wished he was friends with a girl enough that she'd be his beard.

Eventually the sound of the rain got him into a rhythm favorable enough that it lasted for maybe one and a half thousand words before dying off again. Trevor sat back and stared at the screen right as his characters were supposed to enter the dance.

_Beep._

He looked back at his phone and grabbed it off of the bed.

‘hey its your fav barista’

Trevor snickered and put the phone number into his phone before answering.

_‘gary hows it been’_

He bit his lip, scared that he may have been too much just in one line.

‘haha lol its cary not gary’

‘class was fine ive never been much of a math guy’

_‘me neither lol i got an english degree’_

‘you already graduated? i thought you were my age’

Trevor bit his lip harder.

_’i only went for two years’_

‘an associate? thats it? why did you stop?’

Sadly, or for the best, whichever you thought, Trevor dropped out because his book blew up. He could have finished college but as soon as he had a stable income, it wasn't worth it in his mind. Online college would be a way better option for him if he ever thought about going back.

_’something else took my time’_

‘like what?’

_’work’_

_‘are we playing twenty questions or something?’_

‘might as well’

‘your turn’

_’whats your last name’_

Way to be a creep, Trevor.

‘branson’

‘you?’

Trevor bit his lip, suddenly feeling his palms go sweaty. He glanced around to look for a last name that was anything but his own. Nothing, nothing, and nothing. He needed something better. His mother’s maiden name. That would work.

_‘guttierez’_

‘really?’

_’yeah’_

‘trevor guttierez’

_‘thats me’_

‘lol’

 

‘i like it’

Trevor raised an eyebrow at his screen as if Cary could see his every movement. Even with having already lied about his last name, he still was anxious. It was almost as if he was foreshadowing his own downfall in this relationship. Was he the main character of his own story?

‘doo’ 

Trevor watched his screen in anticipation.

‘you wannnA Go out some imtes??’

Oh. _Oh._

_’sure’_

Trevor had twenty minutes to prepare and realized, for the first time ever, that he did not have a single piece of nicer clothing in his whole closet. He couldn’t even head out to grab something without being late. God, he was such a fucking mess and his mother probably couldn’t even fix it. Did she even know he had a date? He should call for advice just in case.

He pulled out his phone only to see all of the missed messages from Cary. Oh, that’s right, he hasn’t even opened them, too afraid that one of them would be calling off the whole thing. It was idiotic, truly. He would sit on his couch for the first time in weeks and wait for hours on end, sobbing into his dusty pillows if he never checked if it was called off.

He decided not to call his mom in the end. It wasn’t worth it. It would take ten minutes before she could even get to the topic that Trevor called her about. She started to get like that when he moved out. But, little did he know, it only happened because he didn’t call often enough. It wasn’t like he was too busy to do it, he just forgot.

He eventually found the plainest t-shirt he had before going downstairs. He sat on his couch for a few minutes before realizing that it might seem very creepy that he was there and waiting for Cary to arrive. It would make Cary feel as if he should have been around earlier.

Trevor got up and went into the kitchen. He looked around for something to do but nothing could be done. He could clean up the various fast food wrappers everywhere. God, it made him look like a slob but if he cleaned them up, he might get his current clothes dirty. Cary, at the sight of it, might run off and never come back. What if Cary was a germaphobe?

He cleaned up the most he could, forgetting about the clock for only a few minutes at a time. The closer it got to seven, the sweatier his palms got and the slower he cleaned. Then ten minutes after seven, then fifteen, twenty, thirty-

He found himself back on the couch. He had removed his mask because it started to become soaked by his tears. Just as he imagined, he was sobbing into his dusty couch because it got called off. Even when he checked his phone, nothing from Cary said that he was going to be late or had to raincheck. The last text taunted him like a knife.

‘see you tonight’

Trevor should have responded sooner if not at all. By now, it only seemed pitiful. Their date had been going on for forty minutes. Cary was nowhere to be seen. He messed it all up-

Someone knocked at the door.

Trevor got up. His mask was left behind. He wiped at his eyes. He opened the door.

“Hello?”

“Trevor.” Cary stared at him, shivering from the rain.

Trevor immediately invited him in. Cary wiped his feet and sat on the couch.

“Sorry that I’m late. There’s a storm kicking up out there from the water. I couldn’t find your place either. I-” he paused and watched as Trevor sat down next to him. “Are you crying?”

Trevor looked down at his lap, now finding shame in his actions. He wiped his eyes.

“I-I meant to text or call but the wind is messing with the service.” Cary explained before grabbing Trevor’s knee. “I’m sorry for running late.”

“I-It’s fine.”

“No, it isn’t. I should have tried harder to get in touch.”

Cary leaned forward so he could see Trevor’s face. He pulled Trevor’s hands away and wiped at his tears. Trevor watched him with wide eyes back.

“I-It makes me feel happy that you were worried so much.” He explained, clearing Trevor’s face. “Yeah?”

Trevor nodded, words having failed to find their way up now. Cary chuckled softly.

“I’m afraid that it might be too much out there to be able to walk to the restaurant. I can call a cab or an Uber or something. If you want?”

“That works.”

Trevor smiled softly, letting more tears fall. Cary wiped at his face again, clearly seeing Trevor in his entirety. Trevor waited with anticipation for Cary to bring it up but it never came. Cary pulled away to try and get to wifi. Trevor lead him through to it.

Cary ordered an uber and made it quick before looking around.

“This is a nice place.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you have a roommate or something? It seems fairly big for just you.”

“It's nice.”

“You must have some serious cash then.” Cary chuckled. “You said you work?”

“From here.”

“Really? Who do you work for?”

Trevor clearly fumbled for an answer and Cary tensed up.

“Y-You don't have to tell me! It's okay, really! It-”

“I’m an author.” Trevor but his lap. Cary calmed down.

“Oh? That's interesting. Y-You must be making a lot.”

Trevor shrugged. “I don't think I do.”

“What kind of books do you write?” Cary asked, sitting back on the couch. “Fantasy? Urban? Nonfiction? I’m guessing you read books, too. Have you read Clearwater? It's by Trevor De Guzman. Your name is also Trevor!” Cary chuckled.

Trevor didn't really like that title anymore. He gulped.

“I-I have.”

“Really?” Cary’s eyes grew. “I love that book!”

Trevor chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck and looked away.

“Same.”

“I-I don't care that it's meant for teenagers or college students, it's amazing.”

“Yeah.” Trevor blushed.

“And the unspoken chemistry between Olive and Connor? Brilliant!” Cary chuckled. “Sean having the crush on Willow but Willow had no idea who he was? It's so stereotypical but perfectly done.”

Come on, Trevor, don't spoil anything.

“Are you sure Sean has a crush on her?” Trevor looked over. Cary furrowed his eyebrows. “He didn't seem to like her until Connor thought about it.”

“Maybe he realized then?”

“Maybe he doesn't like her?”

Trevor shrugged before Cary smiled.

“Are you saying Sean might be gay?”

Shit. _Shit._

“Maybe?” Trevor shrugged yet again and looked away. “It's a possibility.”

Cary sat there for seconds, completely silent before his eyes went wide.

“Oh! Oh, my God! That makes so much sense!” Cary stood up and stared down at Trevor. “You're a genius!”

Trevor glanced up at him and couldn't help but smile. He slowly started to chuckle with Cary. Sitting back, Trevor rubbed his neck with sweaty palms.

“That’s _genius!_ ”

“Really? I thought it was sort of obvious.”

“It is! It's just barely there! God, how did I not notice?” Cary chuckled and wiped his face. “You've changed my life, Mister Trevor Guttierez.”

Trevor chuckled with him. “I wouldn't say that much.”

“I would! I am a _very_ thankful person.” Cary’s chuckle went to a giggle as he sat back down. He pointed at Trevor, his body turned towards him. “And you have blown my mind.”

“I-”

Cary covered Trevor's mouth.

“You have and you can't change my mind.” He kept his hand over Trevor's mouth as he check his phone. “Uber is here.” He got up. “Let’s go, yeah?”

Cary walked to the door while Trevor slowly got up. His face was bright red as he reached for his jacket. God, he was in love.

Unlike the time they spent in Trevor's living room, the car ride to the restaurant was completely silent. The wind and rain pounded against the windows and drowned out the music of the radio. Cary was on his phone but occasionally glanced over to Trevor who was looking out the window. Soon enough, as they both know, the rain would be gone in an instant when summer came around.

Once they were dropped off and going into the restaurant, Trevor wondered who was paying. The place seemed extremely too nice for something Cary would pay for. Living in Seattle was expensive on top of student loans and debt. At least they weren't the least dressed up people there; it wasn't that nice.

Cary opened the door for Trevor making him blush. Inside, he wiped his feet on the rug before walking in. It was much warmer, making his cheeks and hands feel odd. He smiled at the lady at the front desk as Cary went ahead and checked in for their reservation.

Once seated at their table, Cary spoke up.

“Do you like this place? My folks would take me here when we went to a baseball game. I used to play: little league all the way to senior year of high school.”

Trevor chuckled. “Must have been nice.”

“Did you play any sports?”

“No,” Trevor shook his head, “I’ve always been very clumsy.”

“So am I.” Cary chuckled. “I wasn't very good but I had fun.”

“I wasn't a big fan of being in sports or clubs in general. Wasn't a people person.”

“What do you mean?”

Cary took a sip of the water when it came. He then finally looked at the menu. Trevor slowly picked up his own menu. He bit his lip.

“Not a very popular kid. I wasn't even popular enough to be that nerd guy that all of the popular kids bullied.” Trevor said. “I was there to graduate, let's just say that.”

“I don't know the feeling. It’s like I have all this built up energy and I always need to be doing something because otherwise I feel like I’m going to die.”

“Fair enough.” Trevor sipped on his water. “Why did you take up a job at Starbucks of all places?”

“It's right next to campus. I don't have to walk far from my dorm to get to work and I don't have to walk far from work to get to class. Plus, they're very flexible on scheduling.” 

“It must be nice.”

“Well, your job is whatever schedule you want it to be.”

Trevor shook his head.

“It's not. You have deadlines to meet. If you write only ten words a day, you'll never write a novel.”

Yes, Trevor, present yourself as a hypocrite in exchange for love. It will work out in the end as well as your other habits, including lying about your last name.

“I guess you're right about that.” Cary put down his menu. “You can't put out a sequel if you only work on it slowly.”

Trevor was visibly stunned, hiding his red face behind the menu. He didn't say anything and his eyes stayed put staring at the chicken alfredo. Nothing came from Cary, either. The air was thick until the server came around to get their order.

“So,” Cary started after the server left. “Are you native to the area.”

Trevor nodded, forced to look at Cary now that his menu had been taken away.

“You?”

“Kind of. I’m from up north in Bellingham.”

“Then why come to Seattle for college when you have Western intown?” Trevor furrowed his eyebrows. “Did you not get accepted?”

“Not at all.” Cary bit his lip. “They refused me.”

“Did they give you a reason?”

“My personal essay wasn't very good. That's what I get for procrastinating.” He chuckled. “It's fair, though.”

“Haven't you thought of transferring up there?” Trevor asked and leaned forward slightly.

“They refused me after my first year here and I just gave up after that. I fell in love with Seattle.”

They both shared a chuckle.

“Fair enough!” Trevor rested his chin on his hand.

“That and it's much warmer down here. Winters were the bane of my existence. I’m not a snow fan.”

“Me neither.” Trevor grinned with the other. “I’ve always been a summer person.”

“What about California? If you’re truly a summer person, you'd love it there.”

“I grew up here in Seattle. I guess I’m not ready to leave.” Trevor explained.

Cary leaned forward. “Makes sense.”

For a second it seemed as if they would lean in and share a kiss but they both pulled away, their faces red as they dashed to look anywhere else. It was clear that it was the first date ever for the both of them. Eventually, Cary sipped at his water again. He swallowed and glanced at Trevor.

“So…”

“So?”

“You said you grew up here. Do your folks live in the area?” Cary bit his lip.

“My mom. She immigrated.”

“Really? From where?”

“The Philippines.”

Cary’s eyes lit up. “That’s where the accent comes from! I knew it was different. I like it.” He chuckled as Trevor smiled slightly.

“I’ve never noticed.”

“It’s your voice, it’s normal to you. Of course you haven’t noticed it’s different. It sounds natural. I like it. It matches you.” Cary chuckled more.

Trevor rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged.

“Do you speak Filipino?”

Trevor froze before looking at the other. “There is no Filipino language. There's so many languages around there that it just gets all crushed together under one name. I speak Tagalog, though, which is a national language along with English.”

“That’s so cool! And really? They don’t care not to correct the name? I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, really. Everyone always assumes because of Google Translate. That program is a _mess_.”

They shared a short lived laugh. Trevor sipped at his water and smiled.

“So Google can program and sort through websites to find what you want within a second but can't even translate a single set of languages correctly?”

Trevor shook his head. “It's not even that. Language is hard. Not every language can directly translate to another and some languages are so obscure that it’s hard to find speakers willing to help make it better. At this point, they rely on people who use Google Translate.”

Cary nodded along and smiled.

“That’s so interesting to know. Thank you. Maybe next time I won’t use it to help with my French class.” He chuckled. Trevor shrugged.

“It works for some words.”

“Now that I think about it, whenever I use it to conjugate verbs, it never works.”

“There’s a flaw.” Trevor pointed out. “And French? Really? I wouldn’t have taken you to be taking that.”

“It’s fun. It’s very similar to English, too. Easy to learn. I tried Spanish in high school. It didn’t work out.” Cary explained and chuckled softly. “I wouldn’t want to take something like Korean or Mandarin for the life of me.”

“Or Russian. I couldn’t imagine learning a whole new alphabet or all those characters. Then there’s the tones!”

They shared yet another laugh.

“So, your mom was an immigrant? Were you also born in the Philippines?”

Trevor shook his head no. “I was born here.”

“I’m guessing Seattle Children’s?”

“I wouldn’t know.” Trevor chuckled. “I don’t remember.”

Cary drank from his water and nodded along, smiling. Trevor eventually sipped from his own glass when the other didn’t ask any more questions. After, he bit his lip, unsure about what to do. He should ask what Cary is getting a degree in. That would be great to ask but he doubts that it’s not something about computers. He gulped and glanced up at Cary before going back to his glass. Cary was staring.

Sadly, it stayed like that until their food was served. Nothing came of it as they ate other than quiet and the occasionally question about how the other’s food was. Trevor was the first one to finish and kept sipping on his water until the waiter came back around.

“Who is paying?”

Trevor spoke up. “We’re going Dutch.”

“No,” Cary cleared his throat. “I’m paying.”

Trevor glanced over at Cary, making eye contact. “We are going Dutch.”

“No-”

“I want you to be able to have enough money for the rest of the week to pay for food.” Trevor turned back to the waiter. “We’re going Dutch.”

The waiter waited to see if Cary would intervene before nodding and walking off. Cary sighed.

“You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.” Trevor insisted. “You need to pay for college.”

“But-”

“College, Cary. It’s important.”

“Says the guy who got an associate’s degree and dropped out.”

“Again, I didn’t need to continue.”

Cary only smirked as he sat back. “Can I repay you?”

“How?” Trevor raised an eyebrow and learned towards the other.

“How about we go back to your place?” Cary leaned in again as his whispered. “Have a nice time, if you get my drift?”

Trevor's face went red. He cleared his throat and tried to regain his composure. “W-Well that was very smooth.” He chuckled. “I-I, uh-”

“We don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

“Oh?” Cary’s eyes went wide. “I-I didn’t think you’d say yes.”

“So, are you not okay with it?”

“I want to.” Cary said.

They both nodded as the two separate checks came back. Once they were both set, Cary called for an uber as they left. Outside, it was still pouring down cats and dogs. Cary had definitely regretted leaving his jacket with the hood home by now.

“So-” Trevor was quickly interrupted by Cary.

“You want to kiss now just to make sure?”

Trevor looked at him, confused.

“You know,” Cary kicked a pebble. “Test drive. Like a car.”

“Are you asking me to kiss you?”

“It’s more like I’m asking for permission to kiss you.”

Both of their faces were bright red at this point.

“Oh, uh, sure?” Trevor glanced over. “You can do that.”

Cary leaned over and pressed his lips against Trevor's. It was nothing glorious; no touching or tongue action or even moving. Just lip against lip. They both had their eyes closed and their noses took a while to figure out. Cary pulled away and bit his lip.

“So…” Cary dragged it out. “I liked it. Did you?”

Trevor nodded. “I did.”

“So you want to go back to your place still?”

“A-Absolutely.”

The Uber came shortly after. Neither of them found the need to talk and were more focused on silently psyching up themselves. God, they were both having their first date ever and it was going to end with sex. Wasn't that third base? Or was third base marriage, kids, and a membership to the local country club?

Getting into Trevor's place, Cary was lead upstairs to Trevor's bedroom. Trevor put down his wallet and keys before going to look for condoms, if he had any, in his bathroom. Cary took the time to snoop around as nonchalantly as he could. He just wanted to make sure the guy he was about to have sex with was a good guy.

Then he noticed all of the certificates on the wall above the desk. He smiled and looked over them only to drop the frown. None of them were for a Trevor Guttierez. All of them were honoring Trevor De Guzman on his award winning novel ‘Clearwater.’

Oh. _Oh._

“Hey, Trevor?” Cary glanced back to where Trevor had gone. There was no response. “Trevor?”

“I don't think I have any condoms.” Trevor stopped in the bedroom. Cary only moved to point up at all the certificates.

“S-So…?” Cary whispered. “You're him…?”

Trevor immediately bit his lip and looked away.

“Y-You are…”

Trevor gulped. 

“You could have said something.”

“How was I supposed to know how you would react?” Trevor mumbled and crossed his arms.

“I wouldn’t have cared.”

“We were on a date and you were _obsessing_ over him!”

“I was obsessing over you, except I didn’t know it was you!” Cary watched Trevor closely. “It’s perfectly reasonable to lie about it but you could have told me yourself.”

“I didn’t know you were going to go snooping!”

“You left me here to go look for _condoms!_ ”

“Because I was under the assumption that we were going to be safe!” Trevor took a deep breath and stepped to the side of the door. “Get out.”

“Trevor-”

“Get _out._ ”

Trevor barely looked up at Cary before looking back down at the ground as he stormed out of the house. The slamming of the door echoed throughout the house. Trevor slid down the door frame and held his knees up to his chest. He removed his glasses and threw them against the carpet. His tears made his vision worse than usual. At least he could say he had experience heart break and knew how to write it now.

Ten minutes later, he sat at his computer, smashing out words on his keyboard without thought, as if something had trigured his spirit; he had the wood and Cary was just the match that lit it all. Something changed. If the first book was lighthearted, this one was already the depths of hell. The demon was not just back but came back as something even worse than anyone would have suspected. The character based around Cary had a short life.

As that one song stated, he was a survivor, he wasn’t going to give up, and he was going to work harder. Word after word were being pumped out, not necessarily good but good enough to be edited and made better later. This first draft set out everything that was to be said and done and it was progress nonetheless. He was the puppet master in his own world.

By three in the morning, he was fifteen thousand words in. He sat back, his eyes dry and his mind hazy from his lack of sleep. He stared at the page and rubbed his eyes. Despite being tired, he didn’t feel it. It’s crazy what we get so used to that we shut out. He had sixty thousand more to go before he was done and things were checked off his outline. He was doing this. After three years, his readers were going to finally see something, and it was all because of Cary fucking Branson.

People said that your first breakup was always the hardest. It was because it was new to you and new experiences made people for the better or worse. Here, Trevor still wasn’t sure. He breathed in only to lean back over his keyboard and punch out word after word over and over again until he was sure his fingers would bleed. He would survive. He would not give up. He would work harder.

By four in the morning, he had crashed on his keyboard from exhaustion. No morning coffee was to be made, by him or someone else, and the idea of breakfast was abandoned as he slept. Lunch was the next best thing when he woke up to the loud strumming of a guitar outside. That, and a rock thrown against his window. He grumbled, stomping over to scare off the neighborhood kids.

Trevor opened the window suddenly and shook his fist.

“I swear to God, if you rascals-”

He stopped, keeping his fist up as he made eye contact with Cary, who held a guitar. Trevor gulped as Cary started to strum softly. It was something, alright, not quite right as the rain poured down. Even with the occasional slipped chord, it was still certainly Bruno Mars, something he was certain off when Cary started to sing. Yes, _When I Was Your Man._

It made him feel like an asshole for torturing, not just his fictional characters, but Cary. God, he probably walked home in the rain last night. Trevor slowly lowered his fist as he watched. His heart was melting right out of his chest.

When Cary finished, Trevor spoke up.

“I don’t think it’s good to get your guitar wet!”

Cary only chuckled and wiped his face with his t-shirt.

“You know what?”

“What?” Trevor was grinning like an idiot. Some of his neighbors had started to video tape what was happening. 

“Trevor De Guzman, I love you and I don’t care who knows it. I didn’t love you based on how you wrote or how I loved your book, but I fell in love with you! Y-You, the amazing and hilarious man who I spilled a coffee on myself when I saw you.”

Trevor couldn’t help but giggle from the window. Cary gulped.

“A-And I fucked up last night. I-I thought too much and I fucked up. I regret it, I really do! A-And I’m sorry! I’m so sorry that I couldn’t even go to work today to come here. I am so lucky you didn’t go!”

“I-I-” Trevor cleared his throat. “I just woke up.”

Cary chuckled. “I love you, Trevor De Guzman. I can’t get over calling you that because it fits you so well. And guess what?”

“What?” Trevor grinned as wide as he could.

“I don’t care about the skin thing. I-I didn’t say anything last night but I want to make my stance clear on it. It’s you! I love it just as much as I love the rest of you!”

Cary wiped his face with his shirt again.

“And I love every single part of you! I want to be there on the bad days and the writer’s block and the tears and the pain and the good days! I want to wake up and see your face next to mine! I want you to be able to spill to me everything you’d ever want about Clearwater and whatever you write and not have to worry that you’re boring me! I want to be there for you like I want you to be there for me!”

“You’re going to get sick if you stand out there any longer!”

“I-I might be shivering but I’m not done confessing my fucking love for you, Trevor De Guzman.”

“You don’t have to call me that!”

“I love it! I love your name!” Cary chuckled.

“Just come inside, loser!”

Cary nodded and rushed to the door. Trevor raced out of his room and down the stairs to meet him. The second he got the door open and unlocked it, he threw his arms around Cary, who put his guitar down. Cary hugged back before pulling him into a kiss. Most of the neighbors had died off but four or five watched from their porches and cheered quietly.

“I love you.” Cary whispered and pressed his forehead against Trevor’s. “I don’t care if it seems too early to say it.”

“I love you, too.” Trevor chuckled. “And I used to not believe in love at first sight.”

“M-Me too.” Cary shivered. Trevor immediately pulled him inside and closed the door.

“Sit on the couch. I’ll grab a blanket and make something hot.”

“Latte?”

“I have no idea how to make a latte.”

Cary adjusted himself on the seat and watched Trevor go to one of the closets. “It’s an espresso with steamed milk foam.”

Trevor only shook his head. “Nope. That all flew above my head.”

Trevor came back with a blanket and sat Cary back down before he could even try to get up. They shared another quick kiss with red faces.

“I could show you.”

“You need to get better. I don’t want you to get sick.” Trevor made sure Cary was going to stay before wandering into the kitchen. “Coffee or hot chocolate?”

“Hot chocolate!”

Trevor came back a few minutes later with a mug. He handed it over to Cary before sitting down next to him. He smiled and watched.

“Be careful, it’s hot.”

Cary nodded and chuckled.

“I’m going to let it warm my hands up first.” He explained, letting it rest under his face. “And the steam will warm my face.”

“That’s smart.”

“Did you think I wasn’t?”

Trevor snorted. “I think everyone is smart if they’re sensible.”

They looked at each other for a few seconds before Trevor glanced away. A warm hand made its way to his far cheek. Trevor looked back at Cary.

“What’s that for?”

“I was staring.”

“So was I.” Cary smiled. “It’s not as creepy if we’re both doing it.”

“You aren’t wrong there.” Trevor smiled with him and rubbed the back of his neck. “Are you okay if I head upstairs to grab something?”

“I won’t hold you. It’s your house, after all.”

Trevor nodded and went upstairs. He came back down with his laptop and sat back down next to Cary. He glanced over, having seen Cary start to cautiously sip at the mug. They shared yet another smile.

“To be honest,” Trevor looked back to his computer as he spoke. “This is the most this couch has been used in months.”

“I can tell.”

“How?”

“The dust.” Cary snorted. “It’s pretty obvious.”

“Does it bother you?” Trevor glanced back at Cary.

“As long as a colony of spiders don’t live in your couch.” Cary chuckled as a shiver went down his spine. “I _hate_ spiders.”

“What about lizards?”

“I don’t hate you.”

Trevor snorted.

“Does this make you a scalie?”

“You’re the one who looks like a lizard because of a skin condition. You tell me.”

“It’s not really a skin condition.”

“What do you mean?”

Trevor stopped logging into his computer for a second. “My dad, back in the Philippines, pissed off some group of guys. Said guys had their hold on some magic or something. They cursed his first born, me, the look like this. That and he could only ever have one child. When they heard my mom was pregnant, though, they went after her. My father was killed as my mom was on the plane to the states. They weren’t married and my father was married to another woman. She got pinned with the murder.”

“Why didn’t he remarry?” Cary furrowed his eyebrows. “How did your mom get away?”

“No one knew that they were together. He was killed at home and his wife was the one to find the body. As for divorce, it’s illegal there.”

“Really?”

“Only country left with a law against it.” Trevor nodded.

Cary put down his mug on the coffee table. “God.”

“What?”

“I just learned your traumatic backstory.”

Cary looked back at Trevor and they both burst into laughter, ignoring the tense atmosphere that the previous conversation created. If anything, the laughter drove the feeling out and left it like everything was sunshine and rainbows, or gay, that worked too. On top of that, the dark clouds that had plagued Trevor’s mind for weeks, months, or maybe years with the idea of writer’s block faded too; Cary, the cure-all.

Once the weekend came around, Cary was over with a backpack full of clothing and personal care products. Friday night was a dream with Trevor actually going to bed at a reasonable time only to be cuddled by an attractive man. Having a boyfriend was a dream and everything it was lived up to be. They lived in their own gay wonderland for a whole weekend with nothing but sunshine, rainbows, and Cary’s cooking.

Sunday was when everything went downhill. Trevor had woken up last, as Saturday morning had gone as well. The smell of coffee was strong as he wandered downstairs to find Cary making breakfast. A pot had been brewed and waited for him. He smiled and kissed Cary’s cheek before wandering over to the coffee. He poured himself a mug.

Someone knocked on the door as he took his first sip. Trevor groaned and put his mug. He stopped Cary from going.

“I got it.”

“Were you expecting someone?”

“Absolutely not.” Trevor grumbled.

Cary leaned out of the kitchen.

“Maybe I should answer it. I’m fully awake.”

“They probably want me.”

Trevor opened the door and raised his eyebrow at the blonde lady that waited on his porch. She smiled at him.

“You're Trevor De Guzman, correct?”

Trevor crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. “You are correct.”

“I’m Siren. I am one of the founders of a new comic con coming into Seattle-”

Trevor sighed, making her shut up before reaching for the door. “Not interesting in buying anything, ma’am.”

She grabbed the door to stop him.

“Mister De Guzman, I tried to contact you any other way but your email bounced back and the letters never got returned. Yes, it might be a little rude to just show up at your door, but you have thousands of fans who just want to ask questions about your book. Please, just one panel. We’ll pay you.”

During this whole speech, she fought against him closing the door. He eventually slammed it shut and went back into the kitchen to drink his coffee. Cary had served his plate already and served his own before leaving it on the counter. He went to the door.

“Cary?” Trevor watched him go.

Cary opened the door and smiled at Siren who had only gotten to the sidewalk. She turned back to look at him and raised an eyebrow.

“Would you like to come in for coffee?” Cary called after her, immediately getting Trevor’s attention. He put down his mug.

“Cary-”

Cary ignored him and let Siren come in. He even took off her coat for her. Trevor watched with wide eyes and mouth, though finding no words to come out. Cary nudged him.

“Please sit down. Would you like a mug of coffee?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” She sat down.

“Hot chocolate?”

She shook her head. “I’m okay without it.”

Cary nodded and sat down next to her. He patted the final seat and looked up at Trevor. After a few seconds where Trevor didn’t move, Cary’s glance turned into a glare. Eventually, Trevor sat down, letting Cary be a buffer between the two.

“Now, what was your name?”

“Siren.”

Cary smiled. “That’s a nice name. I’m guessing it’s a stage name? Pen name?”

Siren nodded. “Sounds about right. I’m a cofounder of a comic con coming into Seattle from Portland.”

“Really?” Cary glanced back at Trevor and gripped Trevor’s leg. “That sounds fascinating.”

“I was hoping that Trevor here could,” she looked past Cary and at Trevor. “Do a panel or a few there? W-We, meaning me and my cofounder, would pay him, of course.”

“I’m not interested-”

Cary cut him off.

“What kind of panels?”

“Talking about the writing process, publishing, maybe, and answering fan questions.” Siren nodded. “It’s not much.”

“Again-”

Cary squeezed his leg.

“When would this be?”

“In June. We would expect a big turnout if he came, too. Fans have been questioning a lot of things and have plenty of fan theories and their opinions and headcanons. We can even pay for a personal security officer if you feel it necessary.”

Cary shook Trevor’s leg but he didn’t respond. Cary sighed.

“Trevor-”

“I don’t-”

“I think it would be good for you. You were just telling me last night that you’re too scared to even show your face but I know it would be good for you. See,” he glanced back at Siren. “You didn’t even put on a mask or anything when you answered the door. It’s progress.”

Trevor only grumbled and looked away. Cary sighed again and looked back at Siren.

“Do you have a card or anything by chance so we can call you back?”

She nodded and pulled out a card. She handed it to Cary.

“The deadline is next Friday, though. We have to get headshots and stuff for the website.” She got up. Cary got up as well.

“Let me show you to the door, at least.”

“Oh, I think it won’t be necessary, but thank you.” She smiled and got her coat. She left.

Cary looked back at Trevor. “Look-”

“You had no right to do that.” Trevor grumbled.

Cary leaned closer and cupped his cheeks.

“You’re never going to do what you say you want to if you just hide inside all day. You said it yourself just last night while you were writing, you can’t write about something you know nothing about. You can’t write about the world if you never leave your room.”

“Cary-”

“Listen to me, Trevor De Guzman. You’re human. We get afraid of things. It’s part of our nature, but being afraid of everything is not healthy. All you’ll do is drive yourself insane.” Cary sighed and stared at Trevor. “All you would do is be a hypocrite and write about things that you have never experienced. You would never learn more and you would never hypothetically level up.”

Trevor stared at him before clenching his jaw and looked away. Cary only cupped his cheeks and made Trevor look back at him.

“You’ll lose passion for the things you love if you keep doing this to yourself. You were telling me about how it took you three years to even start the sequel because you were not only scared of failure but were convinced it would be too similar and that, in itself, would lead to failure.”

Trevor attempted to get up but Cary sat him right back down.

“Please? At least try it? If you chicken out the last second, I don’t care. Just _try._.”

Cary looked Trevor right in the eyes.

“Even if you throw this card away right now, know that I’d still be proud of you. I completely understand if now is not the time, but it just seems like the perfect opportunity to me.” He whispered before glancing back to the kitchen. “Breakfast is getting cold. I could reheat your eggs if you want.”

Cary got up as Trevor nodded. Cary stuck the card into Trevor’s hand and closed it.

“Remember to try, yeah?” He walked into the kitchen. “Just give me five minutes and they’ll be as fresh as ever!”

Trevor stayed on the couch and put the card down on the coffee table. He pulled off his glasses to wipe on his shirt. Even with that, they were too dirty for his liking. He sniffled; maybe the dust was finally getting to him. He got up and was in his room by the time Cary had finished reheating the eggs, even leaving the coffee behind.

Cary brought them all up and sighed in the doorway. Trevor glanced over before going back to writing. He was typing at a steady pace, completely in harmony as Cary put down the mug and plate next to him. He then kissed Trevor’s head and rested his chin on the same spot. His eyes were closed.

“Take a small break to eat, yeah?”

“No, thank you. I got past the funk I was at.” Trevor did not stop typing. “It’s worth it.”

“Do you use writing to vent?” Cary asked out of the blue after a few moments of silence. “I’ve been curious about it.”

“I would say not, but a psychiatrist might say otherwise. I am no psychiatrist.”

Cary smiled. “Neither am I. I plan to be a psychologist.”

 

Trevor stopped.

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

Cary opened his eyes to be able to kiss Trevor’s cheek. “Nope.”

“Really?”

“A psychiatrist is a doctor. A psychologist focuses on therapy and treating stuff with behavioral intervention. A psychiatrist would just hand a patient a prescription for a drug while I would look into helping the patient cope with skills they could apply be themselves. Frankly, I think I teach a patient something useful and not teach them to rely on drugs.” Cary explained. “See?”

Trevor slowly nodded. “Okay.”

“So I want to be a therapist.”

“Got you.” Trevor chuckled. “We’ve been over this, haven’t we?”

“I don’t believe we have.”

They shared a short lived laugh before Trevor closed his eyes and started to type again. Cary watching Trevor’s face over the screen and smiled.

“Say,” Cary started. “Why do you close your eyes when you write?”

Trevor opened one eye to look at the other.

“If I don’t, I’ll sit staring at one sentence and wonder if I wrote it correctly.” He closed his eye again and started to type. Cary smiled.

“It’s cute.”

Trevor stopped again as his face went pink but did not open his eyes.

“R-Really?” He choked out.

“Absolutely.” Cary hummed before kissing Trevor’s cheek. “I’ll be downstairs so I don’t bother you. Enjoy breakfast, yeah? Stay hydrated.” He kissed Trevor’s cheek again before leaving.

Trevor’s fingers hovered over the keyboard for a long time. They shook as his whole face, neck, and ears grew warm. As he had said, having a boyfriend was just as it was hyped up to be. It was refreshing on the brain more than taxing and Trevor did not regret it a single second, even if sometimes he was annoyed with his partner.

He opened his eyes and took a bite of the eggs before melting. He could live off of Cary’s cooking the rest of his life and never have to go out somewhere for a meal. Honestly, he was still wondering why Cary went into psychology and not the culinary arts. Cary could seriously open his own restaurant and live his best life.

He stopped again, holding even his chewing still as a thought popped into his head. Was he really living? Was Cary right? Was hiding in his room just a side effect of a silly little fear of the world? He was missing out on so much that he even forgets to call his own mother.

Trevor closed the document and shut down his laptop. He got up, his legs shaking. Why were they shaking? Was he anxious? He’s never really felt this anxious before; something was different about this. One step forward and he would have to go downstairs and call Siren, but he could also step back and go back to writing, hiding in this room for the rest of his life. Deep inside of himself, he didn’t want that.

So, he took the step forward. Then, he took two steps forward, then four, then ten, then all the way down to the coffee table. Cary watched him from the dining room table. Trevor dialed the number. Trevor held the phone up to his ear. It rang once, twice, three, and then a small click.

“Hello?”

Trevor cleared his throat.

“Siren?”

“Yes? Who is this?”

“It’s Trevor, Trevor De Guzman.”

“Trevor? I didn’t expect a call from you so soon? This is about the convention, correct?”

“I’m in.”

“Pardon me?”

Trevor took a deep breath and glanced back at Cary with sweaty palms. He licked his lips and wiped his forehead.

“I want to attend.” Trevor clarified. “Panels, you know?”

He heard an audible gasp from the other side.

“I’ll make sure you don’t regret it!”

They talked for a few more minutes on the phone before Siren had to go, promising that they would email or call again. She hung up and Trevor slowly put his phone in his pocket. Cary got up and went over.

“Y-You’re going to-”

“I am.” Trevor declared. “You were right.”

“About what?”

“That I’m a big hypocrite and should take my own advice.” He admitted slowly. When he finished, Cary grinned and wrapped his arms around Trevor’s waist.

“I’m proud of you, yeah?”

Trevor nodded. “Yeah.”

Cary stared at Trevor for a few more seconds before leaning in to kiss him. Trevor certainly kissed back and cupped Cary’s cheeks. He was also the first one to pull away for air. They both smiled as Trevor pressed his forehead against Cary’s.

“They’ll love you.” Cary said. “They’ll love you just like I love you. I will have to make sure I assert my dominance.”

Trevor laughed as his joke. “I don’t think they will be _that_ bad.”

“You underestimate the power of the fandom, Trevor De Guzman.”

“Do I now?” Trevor’s smile went into a smirk. “Care to show me?”

He winked, making Cary burst into laughter. Cary pulled away and put his hands on Trevor’s shoulders.

“I-I-” he laughed more and Trevor frowned.

“What?”

“I think you should leave trying to be smooth to me.” Cary explained through his laughter. Trevor pouted.

“Was it bad? I thought it was good.”

“It was adorable.”

“Was not.”

“You’re like a puppy!” Cary laughed even more and started to lead Trevor upstairs to the bedroom. “Just come along before I start to pity you, Trevor De Guzman.”

“You’re already pitying me!”

“Shush! You’ll ruin the moment!”

Trevor chuckled as he played with the hem of Cary’s shirt. Cary snorted and glanced back at the other. When their eyes met, they shared a kiss.

“I have classes tomorrow.”

“So?”

“Don’t be so hard.” Cary winked and shut the door after dragging Trevor inside.

_June._

Trevor fumbled with the edge of his shirt and bit his lip. He wanted to glance out the door and into the panel room but Cary stopped him. They met eyes but knew better of it in a public space. Trevor gulped.

“I’m nervous.”

“That’s very obvious, Trevor De Guzman.” Cary smiled and wiped at Trevor’s face with a tissue. “You’re sweating a rainforest.”

“Are you saying that I have trees on me?”

“Oh, I know that’s not true for sure.” Cary snorted and winked. “I would have noticed.”

Trevor hit his shoulder.

“You won’t kiss me in public but you are willing to talk about us having sex? Jesus Christ, you are a mess.”

“You’re the one who is going to be talking to the audience. You are the true mess right now.”

“I can still embarrass you. You’ll be in the audience.” Trevor glared at Cary, who only shrugged. “I can’t believe you.”

“I can. I am myself. I believe in myself. And you know what?”

“What?”

“I believe in you, too, Trevor De Guzman.”

“Why do you call me that?” Trevor grumbled and crossed his arms. His cheeks had gone pink and warm.

“You think it’s cute.”

“Do not.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I don’t!”

The security officer shushed the two of them and Cary chuckled.

“See, he even knows you’re wrong.”

Trevor pouted. Cary sighed and cupped his face.

“You are an amazing man. They will love you.” Cary smiled. “You’ll do great. There is no reason to worry.”

“I’m not good with speaking.”

“You’re an English major, you’ll figure out how to bullshit it, somehow.”

Cary laughed and eventually Trevor broke in and laughed with him. Slowly, he turned Trevor around to face the door into the panel room. The door slowly opened.

“You’ll do great.” Cary whispered. “Just one step and one breath at a time, yeah?”

Trevor nodded and took the first step. He slowly got up to the desk on the small stage. The crowd settled down even slower. Trevor gulped and wiped his hands on his pants under the table. He glanced back at the door to see Cary sneak into his spot in the audience.

Once the audience was settled down, Trevor leaned towards the microphone and did as they had instructed him backstage to do. After the sound technician in the back gave him the thumbs up, he sat back again. The last few people came in and settled in their seats. Some people were even wearing cosplay, most of unrecognizable characters. He was surprised to even see some people put so much effort to look like _his_ characters.

Trevor gulped, suddenly very nervous. He never really liked silence; it was truly the bane of his entire existence. Nothing could get done in silence because there was always some sort of noise, whether crickets or a roasting fire. But, it was soon that he learned that he would have to be the one to break the lasting silence.

He leaned forward again, wiping his forehead with the towel on the table. He took a swig of his water and took a deep breath. He wasn’t sure if the sweat was mostly him or now the heat of the lights illuminating him. There was also the possibility that it was because of all the people that were crammed into this room with him. 

One last time, he looked over the crowds, and finally to Cary before down to the microphone.

“Hello,” Trevor bit his lip as he hesitated. “I’m Trevor De Guzman. You might know me as your neighbor, or your friend, or the author of Clearwater,” Murmurs fell over the crowd. “But I am here to introduce my newest book, the sequel to Clearwater.”

And the crowd roared.


End file.
